“Sir Harold,” Mr. Hamilton said, a day or two later, “I have engaged a woman-servant to live in the house. She is old and deaf, and will notice nothing in particular if we simply call you Mr. Harold. I have known her for some years in connection with the laundry work, and as her husband is lately dead, she is very glad of a home. Now that it is settled that Theresa is to be your wife, we must take better care of her.”
“I am glad that you have mentioned this, Mr. Hamilton,” Sir Harold replied, “because I want to talk with you about our future. This idle life is growing a little tiresome, and I should like to travel. Theresa loves me, and relies upon me so much, that I do not see why the wedding should be long delayed.”
“She is very young yet,” faltered Hamilton.
“Nineteen—is she not? And I am nearly thirty, though I have the feelings of a boy,” laughed Sir Harold. “As the autumn will soon be upon us, I intend asking your consent to an early marriage, so that the winter may be spent in Nice, or some similar place. Of course, you would accompany us if you chose to do so, but I do not anticipate returning to England until I can take possession of that which is mine with unimpaired faculties.”
“I am afraid, with all my fears and fancies, that I should be a sort of death’s-head at the feast,” replied Hamilton, a little mournfully. “I hate parting with my Theresa, but she is safer with you. As your wife, the enemy may never suspect whom she really is. If it pleases you—if it pleases Theresa, my dear boy—I am agreeable to all that you may do and desire. But for myself, I shall remain here. I have enough money to buy the place—the money I have saved for Theresa, and I think that the evening of my life may be spent in comparative happiness now that I know my beloved child is well provided for. Treat her tenderly, Sir Harold, for she is like a delicate flower, that would droop and die if neglected or deprived of the sunshine of your love.”
“God helping me, I ever will,” the baronet fervently responded.
“And now,” continued Mr. Hamilton, “what of your business affairs? Between us—Colonel Greyson and me—everything can be managed until you feel disposed to assume the reins of control. I have had a letter from the colonel to-day. He is in Switzerland, and inquires anxiously about you. His letter contains news that surprises me, and we must really try and keep better informed with that which is happening about us. The Earl of Seabright recently met with an accident, and is dead.”
“Indeed!” remarked Sir Harold, indifferently. “I endeavored to become interested in the Daily Telegraph you brought home last Saturday, but its very strangeness bewildered me. I felt like a man who had been asleep for half a century when I tried to connect the politics I remembered and the politics of to-day.”
“Well, what do you think of my proposal?” continued Hamilton; “you will require funds while abroad, and who so reliable as myself in all that interests you? Besides, the occupation will be of benefit to me, for when you and Theresa are gone, I shall be a lonely old man.”
“I am grateful to you,” the young man said, heartily; “no better arrangement could possibly be made.”